Born Under a Bad Star: Part II
by Deco
Summary: Amidala discovers that a careless mistake has compromised her future and turns to Anakin for help...
1. Default Chapter

Born Under a Bad Star: Part II:

  
  


Chapter 1-The Demon Child

  
  


Anakin was sitting in the corner of her bedroom, meditating. 

  
  


Amidala often saw him there, sometimes at odd times of day. She had learned not to mention it to Dr. Sydos--he tended to give her such strange looks when she did. He thinks Anakin isn't really there, she thought. But she knew better. Anakin hides when Dr. Sydos looks for him. Jedi can do that, especially Jedi as strong as Anakin was.

  
  


Sometimes he would just sit there all day, never opening his eyes. Those were the good days. But sometimes he spoke to her---she dreaded those times. His eyes would open, and they would fix her with an blazing stare. She wanted to flee the room when that happened, but she was never able to do it. 

  
  


Today his eyes opened. Amidala twisted her hands. Anakin's pale eyes burned with a white-blue light. 

  
  


"Come here," he whispered.

  
  


Amidala obeyed, of course. She never disobeyed Anakin. At least, not after the first time. 

  
  


She sat down, cross-legged, in front of Anakin. She prayed he wouldn't touch her--as he did sometimes. He stared at her.

  
  


"You haven't done as I told you," he said slowly, rocking himself back and forth slightly. "You know what that means."

  
  


Oh yes, she knew. "Please, Anakin. Don't take the baby away."

  
  


"We agreed," Anakin said softly. 

  
  


"Yes, I know we agreed, but I can't do it. Beru won't let me near him."

  
  


"No excuses, Amidala. If you don't do as you're told, I'll take the other child instead."

  
  


"Why do you want to kill him?" Amidala wailed. "He's your son!"

  
  


Anakin gave her a sly, sidelong look. "Well, as to *that,*" he said, "Who knows?"

  
  


Amidala said dully, "He looks like you."

  
  


Anakin laughed, an open, boyish laugh. His eyes burned so bright a blue that they blurred in Amidala's vision. 

  
  


"Not just like *me*," he mocked her.

  
  


"He's yours! So is Leia! I'm telling you the truth!" Amidala cried.

  
  


Anakin laughed again. "And we both know how truthful you are, don't we?"

  
  


"Anakin, please! I don't believe you'd hurt Leia."

  
  


"Oh? Don't you?" Anakin said, looking at her gleefully. "And what happened to your first daughter?"

  
  


Amidala felt as though she could not catch her breath. "Anakin, just give me another chance! I'll kill him, I promise."

  
  


Anakin stared at her, his face set.

  
  


"See that you do," he said coldly. "I want no more excuses from you....your Majesty," his voice changed, grew higher, more plaintive, "Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Are you all right?" Anakin's face changed, too, grew longer and older and sharper, and eventually evolved into that of Dr. Sydos. He was shaking her. 

  
  


She was trembling. "Yes--yes, I'm alright," she whispered. Her speech was thick and slurred.

  
  


"You were screaming," Dr. Sydos faltered, "You seemed--upset."

  
  


This description was so entirely inadequate, Amidala felt like laughing. Only for a minute, though.

  
  


"Leia!" Amidala cried suddenly. "Where is she?"

  
  


Dr. Sydos disappeared. He was back in a moment, Leia in his arms. He gave the baby to her mother, and Amidala gathered her up, thanking the Nubian Guardians; she was still alive. The baby smiled happily at her. Amidala never failed to marvel at the child's sunny good nature; it was such a complete contrast to the other. 

  
  


The other. Amidala refused to use the name Ben had given him. Didn't Ben know naming a changeling meant he was part of your family forever? It could never be undone. There were plenty of stories in Nubian folklore confirming this; invite a changeling in, name it, and nurture it and it would eventually suck every semblance of joy from your soul, kill your genuine children, and destroy your life.

  
  


And he *was* a changeling, Amidala was certain of it. Anakin had promised her a replacement for the child she had miscarried early in their marriage. That promise he'd kept, she had to admit, but like all such promises, it came freighted with pain and trouble. The miscarried child had been a girl, Amidala was certain of that. When Leia was born, she had been overjoyed---she had her child back. But she was still in pain-then the doctor had told her there was another child. This she could not understand, for she had never sensed him. But there he was anyway. He had been a breech presentation, and it had very nearly killed her. Typical of him, Amidala thought bitterly, to come into the world feet first. 

  
  


They had shown her a shriveled, wizened creature and told her that he was her son. He wasn't; she knew better. Let Ben say he looked like Anakin; let Beru coo over him. It didn't matter. Not to her. 

  
  


Ben had been present when the children were born, but he had left a fortnight afterwards, pleading an emergency. Amidala had wondered darkly if he simply wanted to escape from her. She had begged him not to go.

  
  


"I'll leave Beru with you," he said, as if this was a comfort to her.

  
  


"Beru!" Amidala had exclaimed, "She hates me, and you know it!"

  
  


"She doesn't hate you, Amidala," Ben said in an exaggeratedly patient way that made her want to slap him. "And she's very reliable. No initiative, of course, but give her a task, and she does it."

  
  


Amidala regretted her handmaidens. All gone now. The need for secrecy had shorn them from her. She no allies, except perhaps Dr. Sydos, and she was not precisely sure how reliable he was.

Beru was no help at all; she had always been polite, but Amidala sensed from the start that Beru disliked and despised her. Not overtly, of course; just the edge she gave some of the things she said. But complaining to Ben did nothing at all; it simply made her look petty. 

  
  


So Ben had departed, and left Amidala to the tender mercies of Beru; who in Amidala's opinion was neither tender nor merciful. She had actually demanded that Amidala breast-feed the changeling. Amidala had refused: as if she would feed the demon-child at the expense of her beloved daughter! If he starved to death, she thought, so much the better. 

  
  


But Beru was not so accommodating, and she eventually breast-fed the child herself. At first, Amidala hadn't cared, as long as nobody expected *her* to do it. But Anakin had cared. He had appeared late that night, levitating cross-legged beside her bed. Amidala was still awake; she slept very little, and she usually spent most of the night pacing. The constant movement soothed her --a little. But it also exhausted her, and yet Amidala could not seem to stop it.

  
  


"I told you what to do, didn't I?" Anakin whispered to her. His eyes opened and he stared at her angrily.

  
  


"I tried to leave, Anakin! They're watching me---all night---they never stop!"

  
  


"Not 'they," Anakin said, "That child is watching you. He's waiting for his chance."

  
  


"His chance?" Amidala said, fearfully.

  
  


Anakin smiled slowly. "His chance to kill Leia. He'll wait for his opportunity. One night you won't be able prevent yourself from sleeping. He'll wait for you to fall asleep; then he'll crawl into her crib; he'll suck her breath from her lungs and smother her. You'll find her lifeless body in her crib the next morning, Amidala. It will be your fault, too; you didn't protect her when you had the chance."

  
  


Amidala started to weep. She felt too tired to do anything else.

  
  


"But you can stop him," Anakin said softly. 

  
  


Amidala caught her breath. "How?"

  
  


"Simple. Kill him first."

  
  


"I can't!" Amidala wailed. She felt weak with exhaustion.

  
  


"Oh yes, you can. Because if you don't I'll take Leia from you. If you won't protect her, I will. Make your choice, Amidala: either your daughter is dead, or I'll take her away. She'll make a fine Sith Princess, don't you think? Or maybe I'll just grow bored with her, and kill her anyway." He laughed merrily at this, chilling Amidala's spine.

  
  


Of course, she couldn't stop Anakin from doing as he promised. He was far too strong for her. He would steal her daughter and laugh at her grief; she knew it. Compared to him, the changeling seemed easy prey. She *could* best him; surely, she could. If she could just lure Beru away long enough.

  
  


She had tried, but Beru had been suspicious. Amidala ordered her off the planet; Beru had simply refused to go. Amidala had watched day and night for an opportunity; Beru stayed with the changeling every moment. And now Anakin was becoming impatient. Amidala knew that she must act, and soon.

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2The Life of Amidala

Chapter Two--The Life of Amidala

Amidala could not remember her father, who died when she was eighteen months old. He had been the oldest surviving son of Queen Zenaide of Naboo, and Amidala had been his only child.

According to what her family had told her, there had been great rejoicing at her birth, for the Nubian royal line had a shortage of proper heirs. The royal title passed to females only, and Queen Zenaide had not been blessed with daughters. Her four sons, by law, could not succeed her. This custom had been initiated several centuries ago, when internecine civil wars between various cadet branches of the royal house had reduced the planet to a smouldering ruin and the royal family itself to an single survivor: a fifteen-year-old girl who later became Queen Amidala the Great. Amidala was her namesake, and often felt the expectations bestowed by the name were impossibly high. The Nubians called the first Amidala 'the Great Queen of Blessed Memory' when they spoke of her. Her many-times great-granddaughter was more skeptical. The Great Queen had only nominally a pacifist, in Amidala's opinion; when it suited her, she had been a ruthless--and violent---tyrant. She had re-established the royal house under strict matrilineal lines and a tradition of public service. Pacifism was imposed as the rule of the day. Violence of any description was forbidden, and severely punished. Artistic endeavors were encouraged. Cynics suggested the Great Queen had emasculated her planet; though she had brought peace, Naboo gradually had acquired a reputation as a rather dull, if beautiful, place.

But most Nubians, reeling from the horrors of the Civil Wars, embraced the Great Queen's Creed eagerly. Not all of them, however. In every generation, there were some Nubians that could not tolerate the pacifist culture of Naboo. Some were imprisoned; most were exiled.

Among them had been Amidala's father, Tadesz. Her relatives were tight-lipped about the circumstances, but Amidala knew that her father had been exiled from Naboo at the age of nineteen and had become a mercenary in the Rim Wars.

Amidala often wondered how he had mustered the courage; she remembered her grandmother, without affection, as a thin, austere, upright woman, with an exaggerated case of the Naberrie sense of duty. Her eldest son had been a disappointment to her. The males of the royal family, robbed of a political or military role, usually embraced various fates. Some became diplomats, scholars, historians, musicians, or artists. Others simply left, or were exiled. Amidala knew her great-uncle had been a pirate on Damnation Alley in the Rim; her father had followed him there.

And there he might of stayed, if not for an unfortunate circumstance: Queen Zenaide's three younger sons failed to produce an heir for the throne. One was childless; the other two had produced several sons, but no daughters. Queen Zenaide was left with a dilemma.

She managed to forget--for a second--that violence was against the Nubian Creed, and summoned her eldest son back to Naboo. Tadesz was in poor health and living in poverty; even so, he ignored the summons. Amidala secretly admired her father for that. But Queen Zenaide was not used to being thwarted, and was not about to endanger the succession and the entire political fabric of Naboo because of her son's pride. Or her own.

So she had him abducted, and returned to Naboo. He was a wreck of the lively nineteen year old boy who had left nearly thirty years before. Undeterred, Queen Zenaide picked out a wife for him--an attractive widow with two children: both daughters. She was taking no chances with another childless marriage, or a daughter-in-law that could produce only males. Oddly enough, the marriage was a happy one; or at least, Amidala's mother had always told her it was. Tadesz, unblessed with health or meekness, apparently had charm. But eighteen months after Amidala had been born, Tadesz died. There were whispers that Queen Zenaide, having obtained her heir, poisoned him, once she discovered that he was plotting to overthrow her. Amidala's mother assured her this smear wasn't true; it had been natural causes. As a child, Amidala accepted that explanation. But later she wasn't so sure.

Her childhood was an isolated, but happy one. Her mother, Princess Derzela, was the center of it; when young, Amidala saw her grandmother very little. Derzela was a tall, attractive, plump brunette, warm-hearted, outgoing, and not terribly bright. Amidala, even as a child, felt protective of her mother. And as it turned out, Derzela had need of protection.

Just after Amidala's twelfth birthday, her grandmother died. She became Queen of Naboo, and Princess Derzela was appointed Regent for her daughter. It was a role for which she had very little inclination, and even less aptitude. And so, very slowly, and without anyone really noticing what was happening, Derzela's private secretary, Yann Godoy, began wielding more and more power.

Amidala hated Godoy. He was an oily, insinuating man, who used a caressing manner with Derzela and a haughty style to everybody else, even including Amidala herself. She and her half-sisters decided that he had acquired an unhealthy influence over Derzela, but didn't immediately realize the long-term consequences. The Princess had been widowed twice by much older husbands and was naturally lonely. Godoy was married, and the father of a numerous family, but it didn't take long for the rumors to start. Gossip began to suggest that Derzela and Godoy were lovers. When these speculations came to Amidala's ears, she was shocked and disgusted. Godoy now tried to ingratiate himself with the young Queen, but she would have none of him, and made it clear. Her mother was indignant at her attitude.

The happy and united family of Amidala's childhood dissolved in recrimination and anger. The tensions between her and her mother were now such that when the Jedi Temple had renewed an earlier offer to train her in Force techniques, Amidala was eager to accept. And Derzela, who had earlier rejected all such offers, let her go.

Amidala had been assessed as Force-strong at a very young age. It was yet another inheritance from Tadesz, whose own mother had refused to allow him to be trained. Queen Zenaide did the same with Amidala. Because of her rank, her grandmother had exercised the available exemption, and Amidala had not gone to the creches. But the Order had remained interested in her. The young Queen's rank meant influence for them if they could train her.

The Jedi Order could demand Force-strong infants from their parents at the age of six months; galactic law permitted, even encouraged it. Not surprisingly, this caused some parents to hide their children's abilities until they were past the age of creche-admission. Or exercise a series of exemptions, some for rank, some for illness, some for family hardship. There was an exemption for second children of Jedi families; if the elder child had been creche-admitted, the parents were allowed to keep an equally talented second child.

The Order accepted over-age applicants, of course. These Jedi were known as Aestri, at least formally. The slang term for Aestri was Ellisi, or 'drone.' The older the Jedi at admission, generally the lesser his or her eventual status within the Order. Aestri could not hold the higher positions in the Order. But Amidala wasn't interested in being a Master or a temple initiate. She simply wanted to escape what had become a very unhappy situation at home. When she turned twenty-one, her mother's Regency would be over, and Amidala could rule alone. Until then, Jedi training offered an alternative to the chaos of her life on Naboo. She knew that the corrupt Godoy was feathering his nest at the expense of the Nubian people, and her besotted mother was letting him do it; but for now at least, she did not have to watch. She would deal with that later.

Amidala proved both talented and a quick study, and she enjoyed the instruction at the Temple. She made such rapid progress that she had been assigned, with several other gifted Aestri, to specialized, padawan-like instruction by a Master.

The Master in question had been Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan had been relevation to the impressionable sixteen-year-old Amidala. He was natural teacher, with an ease and a wit that captivated his students. In more ways than one, Amidala thought bitterly. Not that Obi-Wan had noticed her in that way--not then.

At that time, he had been involved in a long-term relationship with a Jedi Knight named Hasma Tveri. About Hasma, Obi-Wan's students were of one mind: she wasn't good enough for him. She was attractive without being beautiful, sharp-tongued without being witty, athletic without being graceful, intelligent but not smart enough to hide it. Very unNubian, in Amidala's opinion. Scarcely worthy of the Master.

But two years later, Hasma simply disappeared. Amidala had been surprised. She had asked Beru, even then Obi-Wan's aide, what had happened to her.

Beru had shrugged. "Hasma asked the Council for consideration as a Temple initiate and as a Master, even though she's an Aestri."

"Is that possible?" Amidala asked, surprised.

"Exceptions are sometimes made, if the candidate is gifted, or serious enough. Anakin, for instance."

"Anakin?" He was Obi-Wan's formal padawan, a solemn, self-conscious fifteen-year-old.

"Yes. He never went to the creches. He was nine years old at admission, technically too old to be considered as a padawan. But he was so gifted that they made an exception."

Amidala nodded. Anakin was indeed very talented. Obi-Wan often used him to demonstrate Jedi techniques for his Aestri students.

"Hasma joined the Order as an adolescent. But she's gifted, too--very. She wanted to be eligible to become a Master."

"And?"

"And they turned her down," Beru said.

"Did they give a reason?"

"They never do." Another shrug.

"The Council thought she was too much of a trouble-maker," Obi-Wan's younger brother, Owen, who had been listening, interjected bluntly.

"And what about Qui-Gon?" Beru pointed out. "Wasn't he a trouble-maker? And he was a Master."

"Sure, he was," Owen said. "But he was a creche-bred trouble-maker. Notice that the Aestri outnumber the temple Jedi by three to four to one? The Council doesn't want anybody leading a reform movement against them. Bad precedent."

Both Beru and Owen were Aestri, Amidala noted. As she was herself. She didn't care about her Jedi status, but she wondered suddenly if they did. Especially as Owen's brother was a Master.

"What was Hasma's reaction?" Amidala asked curiously.

"She was, to put it mildly, upset," Beru said. "She's left the Order."

Amidala sat up straighter. "She's gone?"

"Yes. She didn't want to stay if she couldn't be a Master."

Owen was shaking his head. "Here's the funny part," he said to Beru. "Hasma wanted Obi-Wan to go with her."

Beru's mouth dropped open. "You're joking!" she exclaimed. "Leave the Order? Obi-Wan?"

"Yes."

"Was she on spice?"

"Not noticeably. Stone cold sober."

Beru seemed half astonished, half amused. Amidala couldn't see her reasoning.

"Now I know why Hasma would never have made a temple initiate. She just doesn't think like one," Beru said.

"No argument there," Owen said.

If Obi-Wan had actually loved Hasma, Amidala thought, surely he would have gone with her. He would have forsworn being a Jedi Master, and become...what? She wasn't sure. But something else. Obviously, he hadn't loved her enough to make the necessary sacrifices. But it would be different with her, Amidala promised herself. After all, she was worthy of him. Or to put it in Nubian terms, he was worthy of her.

Amidala felt sure he would like living on Naboo. It was a beautiful, civilized planet. Peaceful and rich. And their children would be Force-strong. A handy talent for a ruler.

Amidala knew she had competition. It was no secret that Beru had a tremendous crush on Obi-Wan, as did most of the female Aestri. But she could dream, couldn't she? _And scheme, too_, her sarcastic inner voice informed her. Accurately.

The sarcastic inner voice always sounded remarkably like her grandmother. Thought like her, too. Amidala didn't want to emulate the late Queen of Naboo. Zenaide had been an excellent ruler; but Amidala suspected a woman who had the lowest opinion of everyone's motives could not have been happy.

_Happiness is overrated_, snorted her grandmother's voice.

"No, it isn't!" Amidala said out aloud, and then blushed. She wanted happiness, and she intended to have it.

Amidala knew she was a pretty girl. Many times she had heard herself described as beautiful, but as her grandmother acidly informed her, people tended to flatter royalty. But the reaction of the male Aestri had been favorable, and she had plenty of attention from them. Not that it meant anything to her. Not if Obi-Wan didn't join the chorus.

And at first he didn't.


	3. Chapter 3Ways and Means

Chapter Three-Ways and Means

  
  


Amidala baited her trap carefully. Though she was not by nature a cheerful person, she schooled herself to be so in Obi-Wan's presence. She considered this necessary because of his quite obvious despondency. Since Hasma's departure, he had become unnaturally quiet and withdrawn. 

  
  


She considered her competition: all of the other female Aestri, several Jedi, and of course, Beru. The latter was the most dangerous, in Amidala's estimation. She knew Obi-Wan very well, and she was nearly as ruthless as Amidala herself. Which even Amidala was willing to admit was ruthless indeed.

  
  


But it didn't seem to work; in fact, after a few days, she suspected that he was avoiding her.

  
  


Maybe he liked calm women? Amidala wondered. But then, Beru was calm, and he seemed to pay as little attention to her as he did to Amidala. What *did* he want?

  
  


Eventually she toned down the cheerfulness down quite a bit. This worked better; Obi-Wan stopped avoiding her. He even seemed to enjoy her company, but no more so than any other of the Aestri, she thought despairingly.

  
  


Finally she decided on a more direct approach. If she waited for Obi-Wan to make the first move, she'd be old and grey before he lifted a finger. Men, reflected Amidala darkly, weren't very energetic.

  
  


So when she received an invitation to the First Reception, a diplomatic gathering marking the start of legislative season on Corsucrant, she was overjoyed. That was perfect! She would need a male escort, and who better to ask?

  
  


It proved more difficult than she had anticipated. After all, she accepted that as she had the higher rank, Obi-Wan could not ask her. She would have to ask him. But how to broach the subject?

  
  


Talking to him alone presented another difficulty. He always seemed to be surrounded by a crowd: Beru; his brother, Owen; his padawan, Anakin; and a host of boring Aestri students, Jedi Knights, and other assorted nuisances. Amidala was not about to approach him with an audience watching, but she could not think of a way to get him alone.

  
  


But one day during a lesson, one of the other students took ill. It didn't seem very serious, but the other students flocked around, trying to help her to the nearby med centre. Except Amidala. She stayed behind. 

  
  


Obi-Wan was packing up his lesson equipment, and preparing to follow the crowd of students. When he noticed her, he looked up and said, in a kind voice, "Yes, Amidala?"

  
  


Amidala was undeceived. He was working hard to conceal his impatience, she saw. She was better with the Force than anybody at the Temple seemed to realize, perhaps because her talent often expressed itself in nonstandard ways.

  
  


"Obi-Wan," she said, and then found that she could say no more.

  
  


"Yes?" He said again, now rather puzzled. "Is something wrong? Are you feeling sick, too?"

  
  


"No," Amidala said.

  
  


"Can I help you, then?" 

  
  


"Yes."

  
  


Obi-Wan gave her an amused look. "Well, that's a relief! Tell me how?"

  
  


"I have an invitation to the First Reception," Amidala heard herself blurting out. "I need an escort."

  
  


A pained look came over Obi-Wan's face, and he stood up. "That's nice," he said neutrally. "Maybe one of your fellow students--"

  
  


"No!" Amidala exclaimed. "I need someone--older."

  
  


He frowned. "No, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't--"

  
  


He's going to turn me down, Amidala thought frantically. He's going to turn me down, and that will be that. Unless I think fast.

  
  


"Please, Obi-Wan!" she cried. "Hear me out! I need some help--my mother will be at the reception!"

  
  


"Surely you don't need protection from your mother," he said, smiling.

  
  


"Not her, exactly," Amidala said. "Godoy, yes. He used to be her secretary, but now he's Prime Minister."

  
  


Obi-Wan's mouth twisted. "Quite a career leap," he said drily.

  
  


"Oh, yes," Amidala said bitterly. "And they say he's also her--" She stopped, unable to say it. Not to Obi-Wan.

  
  


Obi-Wan looked at her and sighed. "Sit down, Amidala, and tell me about it."

  
  


So Amidala sat down and told Obi-Wan that she was afraid of Godoy (true enough) and that she feared that he would force her back to Naboo (not true at all.)

  
  


"So don't you see?" she said, forcing out a few decorative tears. "I need someone to protect me." Laying it on thick, her grandmother's voice sneered in her head I don't care, she muttered back defiantly, I don't care. If you want something, you don't just stand there. You go after it!

  
  


Obi-Wan did look a little flattered, by the gods. "Very well, then," he said. "I'd be happy to take you." And Amidala tasted the joy of that inadvertent innuendo for the next week.

  
  


She had work to do, of course. She had to ensure that her mother would be at the First Reception. Having promised Obi-Wan the opportunity to protect her from something, she had better provide the something to be protected from.

  
  


This involved swallowing her pride and making a holocall home, something she had avoided in the past year.

  
  


Amidala feared her mother might refuse to talk to her. After all, they had not parted on the best of terms. But her fear proved unfounded. Derzela's face appeared on the screen quickly. She looks-old, Amidala thought with sudden distaste.

  
  


"What is it, Amidala?" she said with uncharacteristic sharpness.

  
  


"Can't I just call because I want to talk to you?" Amidala asked, schooling her voice to amused exasperation and restraining a desire to cut the connection.

  
  


"You've managed well enough without talking to me lately," Derzela said.

  
  


Ah, Amidala thought, she's going to pout. The gods preserve us, she's the biggest fool in the Middle Rim.

  
  


"Mother," Amidala said, keeping calm by fixing her mind on Obi-Wan, "the First Reception is coming up. Are you going to be there?"

  
  


"Why?" Derzela asked sulkily.

  
  


"Because you usually do attend, don't you? And if so, we could have a visit."

  
  


"I didn't know you were anxious to see me, Amidala," Derzela said.

  
  


Amidala gave her a broad, false smile. "Well, I am. Will you come?"

  
  


Derzela forgot her temper and smiled back. "Of course, honey, if you want me-" she said in a mollified tone, "But you must realize---Godoy would have to come with me--"

  
  


"That's fine," Amidala said politely, after a short silence.

  
  


Derzela looked amazed, as well she might, Amidala thought ruefully, since the last time I saw her, I told her I wouldn't tolerate his presence within a galatic parasec. It's love, mother. And not for you.

  
  


If Amidala had been older, she might have been touched by Derzela's gratitude. But she was too embarrassed by her own change of front to notice it. 

  
  


Derzela, entranced by the prospect of a reconciliation with her youngest daughter, wanted to talk. Amidala managed to fob her off, promising to meet her at the First Reception.

  
  


The next consideration was her appearance. She would have one opportunity to catch Obi-Wan's attention; she would have to make the best of it. Her Aestri robes covered everything of interest, and students were not allowed jewelry or make-up. 

  
  


She skipped her lessons for the next few days to work on it. She decided on haut Nubian style. It had shocked her to learn that Naboo was considered a provincial backwater by the sophisticates of Corsucrant. So she decided that she would show them how wrong they were. Nubian style was high on display, and display was exactly what Amidala had in mind. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4Bait and Switch

Chapter Four-Bait and Switch

Amidala dressed with especial care for the Reception. She painted her face Nubian-style, and decided to wear her demi-regalia. Full regalia was for only for wholly formal occasions, and the Reception did not qualify. She added a head dress, delicate jewelry, and an elaborately embroidered golden-hued gown. She choose a low-cut one, a not very common mode in haut Nubian style.

She looked in the mirror, and decided that she was thoroughly pleased with the effect. Obi-Wan knew she was a Queen, of course, but he never treated her like one. When they first met, Amidala had been very pleased with his lack of formality; later, she learned he treated everyone the same way. She gradually became annoyed by what had previously seemed so refreshing. But now he would see her at her at her best. He would, she thought, have to take serious notice of her now.

Baiting the trap? her grandmother's sneered in her head. Yes, and so what? Amidala snapped back. Men needed prodding sometimes. She would just assist him to see what was terribly obvious to her.

When she emerged from her web--make that her room, her grandmother was having a bad effect on her--Obi-Wan was waiting. He was wearing his Jedi robes, and looked so handsome, so distinguished, so finished, Amidala felt her heart bound into her throat. She swallowed it, with some difficulty.

"You look very grown-up, Amidala," he said, kindly.

Grown-up, Amidala thought despairingly. Not beautiful. Grown-up. She obviously had work to do.

He had come alone, Amidala was relieved to note. She had feared that he might bring the ever-present Anakin with him. Not that Amidala disliked Obi-Wan's padawan; not at all. She just didn't want his company on this night. She had plans, and they did not include a chaperone.

They arrived at the Reception too quickly for Amidala's liking. She felt a surge of pride as they entered and she heard their names announced. A couple. Amidala felt a smile come to her face.

The smile was erased soon enough. Amidala saw her mother and Godoy pushing forward to greet them. Amidala had carefully rehearsed her response to mother beforehand: she would not get angry. Not in public and not with her mother. Obi-Wan might think her temperamental--or unfilial. Calm and cool were the ticket. She repeated 'calm--cool' to herself like a mantra.

Her resolve failed almost immediately at the sight of her mother. Derzala looked older, smaller, more careworn than Amidala remembered. She suddenly remembered the tall, buxom, laughing mother of her childhood and her conscience smote her.

"Mother," she said, holding out her arms. Derzala gave her a tight hug and a delighted smile.

"Baby!" she exclaimed.

Amidala winced at the silly childish nickname. Yet she made no comment and let her mother hug her again.

"Baby, I've missed you so much--!"

"Yes--yes," Amidala said, "I've missed you, too, mother--"

Derzala kissed her daughter Nubian-style, careful, despite her evident emotion, not to smudge Amidala's ceremonial make-up. Amidala hid a smile. She took the opportunity to present Obi-Wan to her. Derzala, absorbed in her reconciliation with her daughter, did not take him in; she looked rather confused as to his identity. Godoy, Amidala noticed with sudden foreboding, was not.

"Unusual, isn't it," Godoy asked, "for Jedi Masters to attend this sort of party?"

"Not at all," Obi-Wan said urbanely. "The Jedi don't lock themselves away from society. In any case, Queen Amidala asked me to accompany her."

Godoy looked suddenly alert, like a cat at a mouse hole. He hadn't achieved his current status by being deaf to nuance. He inspected Obi-Wan carefully. Obi-Wan looked unconcerned-but Amidala was not. She didn't want Godoy interfering in her pursuit of Obi-Wan and began to fear that this excursion had been a bad idea.

Derzala gave Amidala a nervous smile, and said, "Let's sit down, shall we?"

Amidala wondered what her mother was so nervous about and wished she could read her mind. She could not do it with Obi-Wan present; the Jedi frowned upon invasions of privacy for frivolous reasons, and he would no doubt reprimand her.

Yet even after they were seated at the table, Derzala would not come to the point. Instead, she gave Amidala news of her half-sisters, which her daughter was genuinely glad to hear. She would have enjoyed the chat with her mother if Godoy had been elsewhere. He smirked at her from across the table, no doubt remembering their last encounter. Amidala had sworn then never to be the same room with him again.

Gradually, Amidala became aware of the glances Derzala and Godoy were casting at Obi-Wan. Finally, Godoy said smarmily--because in Amidala's opinion, Godoy could not be anything else--"Master Jedi, would you excuse us? We have some private business to discuss with her Majesty."

Obi-Wan's attention had been wandering a bit, but now he focused again on Godoy. Amidala gave him a pleading glance. He gave her a small shrug, and said: "Of course. I'll take a walk." He smiled politely at Derzala, and rose to leave the table. Amidala half rose with him. Obi-Wan, please! she pleaded mentally, Don't leave me here alone with them!

It's a reasonable request, Amidala, he responded calmly. I can't refuse without seeming disrespectful to your mother. If there's any trouble, just call me: I won't be far away."

So Amidala sat back down. So much for Obi-Wan's protection, she thought bitterly. Her mother looked eager, and Godoy, delighted. And if Godoy looks delighted, Amidala thought darkly, I know I don't want to hear it.

And she didn't. Derzala said, "Dearest, do you like the Jedi Order?"

"Yes. I'm enjoying it here."

"But you'll be of age in three years," Derzala said, rather nervously, and looked at Godoy. He nodded and she went on. Amidala was suddenly alert. She said, "Yes."

"You'll need a Prime Minister--to help you take care of business--when you come of age." Derzala said.

"I suppose so."

"Well, we thought--I thought--"

"You thought what?" Amidala said.

"That you might want to appoint Baron Godoy your Prime Minister."

There was a pause while Amidala repeated 'calm--cool' to herself several times. Then she said, "When the time comes, perhaps. But that's three years away."

"We thought--I mean, Baron Godoy thinks--we both think that you should sign a pledge--"

"A pledge?" Amidala said, her voice rising.

"That you'll appoint him your Prime Minister when the time comes."

Amidala stared at her mother. 'Calm and cool' flew out the window.

"Sign a pledge?" she asked incredulously. "For him?"

Godoy flushed. "Why not?" he asked sharply.

Amidala looked at him. "Do you really want to know?" she asked.

"Amidala!" Derzala cried.

"I want a guarantee," Godoy said tightly. "A guarantee that after I work like a dog to serve your mother, you're not going to discard me like yesterday's trash when you come of age."

Amidala felt herself literally tremble with rage. "Yes, you're serving my mother! And the whole planet's gossiping about how!"

Godoy aimed a blow at Amidala's face, which never landed. Obi-Wan's arm seem to come out of thin air to deflect it.

Derzala struggled to her feet: "Baby--!" she said.

"Don't call me that!" Amidala cried. "Leave me alone!" She turned from the table and fled into the crowd. She would not allow Godoy to see her in tears.

"Steady on," Obi-Wan's voice said from behind her. His hand seized her elbow.

Amidala forgot everything except her humiliation. She wrenched her arm out of Obi-Wan's grip, and charged in the opposite direction.

"Amidala!" Obi-Wan's voice yelled in her head.

She stopped dead, frustrated, and waited for him to catch up to her.

"What happened?" he asked, taking her arm again.

Amidala didn't answer immediately. "Please, Obi-Wan," she said, in a small voice, "take me home."

"Why?" Obi-Wan asked bluntly.

"Why?" she repeated, looking him in the eye. "I thought my mother wanted to see me. Instead it turns out that just wanted me to sign a pledge to keep Godoy in his current position when my mother's regency ends."

"Amidala, it's quite possible that she did want to see you," Obi-Wan said. "Though the pledge was undoubtedly part of it. I take it you don't want to sign?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"I hate him," Amidala said between her teeth.

Obi-Wan sighed. "That's not a good enough reason, Amidala," he said. "Many unlikeable people are competent at their jobs. Is he?"

Amidala considered this. "I suppose so--but he's corrupt. He's amassed a fortune already, and he wants more, I suppose."

"Then you will have to decide wither his corruption cancels out his competence; or whether you can control one to benefit from the other. But it's never that simple. As you get older, you will discover very few things in life are."

Amidala folded her lips. For the first time, she felt annoyance with Obi-Wan. Corruption was corruption. It was simple. If you couldn't trust a man in one area, how could you trust him in another?"

"You must control your emotions better, Amidala," Obi-Wan said, still patient. "You gave way there--I could sense your anger all the way across the room. And Godoy knows now that you are enemies."

"If he didn't know that before tonight, he's a damn fool."

"You know what I'm saying--"

"Yes, I know. I don't want to argue---I want to go home," Amidala said, white-lipped.

"No," Obi-Wan said firmly. "This is a test. You must control your emotions. Settle down. You are a ruler--behave like one."

Amidala suppressed a desire to hit him. She drew a long breath, and said, "Very well. I'd like something to drink, please."

Amidala could still see Godoy and her mother out of the corner of her eye. She wrenched her gaze away, and followed Obi-Wan to the atrium where the exotic plants of the galaxy were displayed, and where they could have some privacy.

"Self-control is very important--" he began again.

"Self control! Like you had with Hasma?" she asked suddenly.

She had the satisfaction of seeing Obi-Wan's composure crack a little.

"That's none of your business," he said coldly.

"You didn't control your emotions all the way that time," Amidala blurted out. "You moped for months!"

"I did not mope!"

"You did! You moped, you sulked, you pouted! The great Jedi Master!"

Obi-Wan spun around, turning to leave. Amidala despaired, and yet she could not seem to control her tongue. "That's right! You can lose your temper but I can't!"

Obi-Wan spun back and seized both her wrists. "I am not losing my temper," he said very deliberately. And then, just as deliberately, he kissed her.


	5. Truth or Consequences

Chapter Five-Truth or Consequences

Amidala later looked back on the first months of her liaison with Obi-Wan as the happiest time of her life. Before all the complications set in. Before it all began to go wrong. And go wrong it did. There were some troubling things right from the beginning, of course: like Obi-Wan's lecture, early on, on how seriously she should take their relationship.

"Jedi can't marry, so this isn't permanent, Amidala. I want you to understand that from the start."

Amidala had been irritated by this blunt warning, so she responded, arching her brows, and using her most regal manner: "Are you serious, Obi-Wan? Me, marry a _commoner_?" The Queen of Naboo put plenty of emphasis on that last word. She saw a flash of temper in his eyes, and was momentarily delighted. Nobody insulted a Naberrie in that fashion! Well, she could amend that statement: the people who had insulted the Queen of Naboo had ended up in separate pieces, scattered to the wind. On a pacifist planet, too.

Then, too, Obi-Wan wanted their relationship kept secret. Amidala agreed with this in principle, but it still troubled her. It meant concealing her triumph from some people she would have enjoyed telling, such as Beru. But Obi-Wan refused: "It would cause bad feeling among the other students. Can't you see that?"

No, Amidala couldn't see it. "Are you ashamed of it?" she asked him.

Obi Wan sighed. He did it frequently, and she hated it. It relegated her to an unruly child instead of an equal. "No, of course not. Love among Jedi is not forbidden, you know that, but at the Master level it must be discreet."

"Everyone knew about Hasma," Amidala pointed out.

"Hasma was not my student," Obi-Wan said, in the steely tone mention of Hasma's name always brought out in him. "Nor was she Queen of Naboo. Do you imagine that Godoy wouldn't cause trouble if he had this information?"

Yes, Amidala knew that was true, so she restrained herself. Even so, she some suspected some people already knew. Beru, for example. Beru had an ill-concealed crush on Obi-Wan, one that made her a laughing stock, in Amidala's opinion. She was not even close to being pretty, Amidala thought, and had no poise whatsoever. That was jealousy talking, Amidala knew, and jealousy was beneath her; but still it lurked around every corner.

Amidala's happiness received another rude blow a few months later. Two of her handmaidens, Sabe and Corde, suddenly appeared in her rooms in the Temple. They had not let her know they were coming, which was unusual. She was surprised, but delighted, to see them. The Order had not allowed her to have her handmaidens with her on Corsucrant, which she regretted, but understood.

They both embraced her anxiously.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Amidala asked.

Sabe looked over her shoulder, and then around the room. She placed a finger to her lips and motioned toward the door. Amidala was baffled, but she managed to contain her curiosity. But once outside, Sabe and Corde still refused to discuss their visit with Amidala, and drew her away from the Temple.

They ended up in a tap café on one of Corsucrant's upper promenades. It was nearly empty at that hour--mid-morning. Sabe ordered cafs for the three of them. Amidala was growing more and more alarmed by the minute.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Amidala, have you heard anything from Naboo recently?" Corde asked, her eyes on the door of the café.

Amidala shook her head. "I'm scheduled to go home next week for a visit. To celebrate the Great Queen's Ascension and to conduct the ceremonies." The Ascension was the major Nubian holiday. There were feasts and celebrations over a two week period and Amidala had been looking forward to it.

"Amidala," Sabe said, grasping her wrist, "Don't go."

"Not go? Why not?"

"If you go, you won't come back," Sabe said soberly.

Amidala sighed. "You mean Godoy," she said. "I wondered if he might try to assassinate me, but if you think it through, why would he? What good would it do him? He'd lose power anyway."

"Who's the next heir?" Corde asked.

"There isn't one," Amidala said. "Not right now. They would have to appoint a regent of some kind--but it would be one of the Naberries, not my mother. They'd serve until a baby girl is born to one of my male cousins. So you see, killing me wouldn't help Godoy at all."

"He won't kill you," Sabe said gloomily. "At least, not yet."

"Stop this!" Amidala exclaimed. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Your mother and Godoy are planning a marriage for you."

Amidala nodded coolly. "My mother's been talking about that for years."

"They've settled on a groom," Corde said.

"The Alderaanian prince?" Amidala asked without much interest. She knew he was the popular choice of the Nubian people. And she had to get married one day, so she saw no particular reason to object.

"No. Timon Godoy."

"Timon Godoy?" Amidala jumped to her feet. Godoy's eldest son was plain, shy, and almost certainly not interested in women. Amidala did not dislike him, exactly; she did not, however, want to marry him. She was equally positive he did not want marry her.

"Sit down, Amidala!" Sabe said, in an urgent whisper. "You don't want to attract attention!"

Stunned, Amidala sat. She said to her friends in a sarcastic whisper: "And how will Timon provide any heirs to the throne?"

Corde gave her a compassionate glance. "I heard Godoy boasting--out of earshot of your mother, of course--that if his son needed help, he'd be willing to delegate for him."

Amidala felt her stomach drop. At the same time, her mind shifted into high gear. She saw that her notion that Godoy would tamely relinquish power when she came of age had been utterly, stupidly naive. He had no intention of doing so, and would rule through her daughter. She could do little to stop him. Naboo had no army and a pacifist culture.

Her first impulse was to tell Obi-Wan. He would help her, he had to! And yet, after considering it briefly, she rejected it. Her experience with the Order told her that they would not interfere with local politics. And Obi-Wan could be depressingly orthodox, when it suited his purpose.

_Think it out,_ she urged herself. _Think it out. You caused this situation yourself because you didn't consider the consequences of offending that scum._ She now saw, with paralyzing clarity, that she should have assured him that she would retain Godoy as Prime Minister, and consolidated her position in secret.

Sabe and Corde leaned forward, looking at her with concerned expressions. Amidala had a sudden qualm. _Can I trust them?_ she wondered suddenly. _Are they telling me the truth?_ In her ear, she heard her grandmother's voice, _You can't trust anyone, other than yourself._

So she swallowed the furious denunciation of Godoy that sprang to her lips, and forced a smile. She reached and patted Sabe's and Corde's hands. "Thank you for the information. I appreciate your loyalty and believe me, I will reward it as soon as I can." Her formal manner warded off inquiries as to what she was going to do. In fact, she didn't know herself.

In the next few weeks, Amidala was tortured by indecision. What should she do? In the darkest hours of the night, during which she found herself increasingly unable to sleep, she sometimes considered abdication. Yet she knew that it was not really an option. Her grandmother's voice had said frostily in her ear: _You are a Naberrie. Behave like one._ Yes, she was a Naberrie, and cowardice was not permitted. Yet sometimes she was driven to considering action she knew to be ill-advised strictly for the relief of doing _something._

Part of the problem, Amidala concluded, was Nubian culture. The ingrained pacifism that had once saved Naboo was now destroying it. The Nubians knew Godoy was corrupt and power hungry: they simply did not know what to do to stop him. He had cadres of armed mercenaries to enforce his will and there were no other weapons on the planet.

She did cancel her trip home, pleading illness. Her mother and her government pretended to accept the explanation, mainly because Dr. Sydos assured them that it was true. Dr. Sydos had been Amidala's personal physician from her infancy, and he alone of her entourage had been allowed to accompany her to Corsucrant. He lived at the Nubian Embassy and assisted their physician in his spare time, which even Amidala admitted was nearly unlimited. Amidala had been an ailing child, subject to a list of illnesses that had gradually faded away as she grew older. Dr. Sydos assured her that she was currently very healthy, and she had no reason to doubt it.

Of course, it occurred to her that she couldn't really trust Dr. Sydos, either. It troubled her to be so suspicious of everyone; it was not generally in her nature to question people's motives, and now she had to do so at all times. But Dr. Sydos was perfectly placed to be an informant, and as fond of him as she had always been, she had to consider that. She decided to start monitoring his contact with Naboo. And for that, she needed help.

She got it in rather unlikely form--Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan's padawan. She knew that he was an expert on droids and technical matters, and so she had tentatively asked him to assist her in setting up a droid surveillance on Dr. Sydos. Of course, he had asked her why. And Amidala, too afraid to tell her own lover the truth, confessed everything to a seventeen year old boy she hardly knew.


End file.
